Look After You
by songandsilence
Summary: In truth, she feels a little like she is drowning. But, then again, she always had been one to try to swim upstream.' Robin/Marian written for the Say The Words Then ficathon


For: lily268

March 16, 2008

For: lily268

Say The Words Then

Look After You

It is a hot summer. Marian sits by her window, trying to catch a slight breeze as it winds its way through the hazy midday air. The insect hum outside is almost lulling her to sleep.

Her thoughts drift. She remembers with astonishment running out of her own wedding. She remembers with dread the look on Guy's face as he had threatened her. She remembers with a small smile the feel of Robin's lips against hers after so many years of wanting them there but pretending she didn't. It had been like a breath of fresh air.

But it seems like a dream. Had it all really happened? Had she really thrown her wedding veil into the air and ridden off with a man wanted by the law?

She rests her chin on her hand. The forest is a deep, cool, inviting green outside her window, but she knows that very little of its inviting appearance has to do with the color and a lot with a certain outlaw.

She starts to smile, but loses it as dread closes over her head. She had run from the church with very few things on her mind, and one of them had not been how Guy would react.

And thinking of it now, it terrifies her.

There were times when she saw something in him, some goodness. There were flickers of caring in his eyes. But every time he pledged his love to her, it went hand in hand with a threat. And on their wedding day, Marian had barely been able to look in his dark eyes. He had never scared her more.

And now she worries that her refusal – and right fist – could possibly give him reason to act unpredictably. He seemed to be the king of unpredictable action.

"My lady?" Says a quiet voice behind her. She turns slowly, dragging her eyes from the trees. Sarah is standing by the door, a pile of light material in her arms. "It's time to get ready for the banquet; should I – "

"You can just leave it by my bed, Sarah. Thank you," Marian says dully. When her maid has gone she walks over to her dress, staring at the pale, airy material. She picks it up, fingering the dark green embroidery. Sighing, she puts it down again.

She stands still in the heat.

--

On her, the dress is a vision. It cuts close in the waist, drawing out the curves of her body, and is low in the front. Light, wispy material falls over her shoulders and around her arms, and her dark hair is a river down her back.

Still, she is standing.

Somehow it has become hard to move. She doesn't know if her legs have frozen or melted to the floor, but as the breeze ruffled the skirt of her dress, she doesn't move with it. She stares at herself in the small mirror, completely unsure of what she sees.

"Marian! It's time to go!" Calls her father, she jumps and is able to move again.

The Fitzwalters have been invited to the castle banquet on propriety only, as neither of them are in particularly good graces with the Sheriff as of late. As they approach the tall grey walls, Marian feels the dread inside of her claw its way to her throat, making her heart clatter sickeningly in her chest. She clutches her skirt in sweaty hands.

No one is waiting to greet them on the steps. The slight is obvious, but Marian and her father pretend it never happened. Each step up sends tremors down Marian's legs.

Inside, the banquet is in full swing. All of the noble women Marian usually avoids send her chilly looks that tell her she is not welcome in their circles of gossip. She refrains from rolling her eyes, but secretly the snub makes her stomach ache.

And then there he is. Guy of Gisbourne stands on the Sheriff's right, hands clasped behind his back. She nearly stops short when she sees him, but her father urges her on. They stand in a short line to greet the Sheriff, and when the man sees them his smile falters, turning into more of a dissatisfied grimace. Marian swallows.

"Ah, Sir Edward. And daughter dearest. How lovely." He clasps his hands together. "Isn't it, Gisbourne?" Marian lifts her eyes to the man dressed in black, who is studiously not looking at her. He looks immensely unhappy and clenches his jaw. Vasey just chuckles and waves them away. "Time for some olives. I had them imported from France, you know." He wanders away, and Marian breathes out.

Her father gives her a warning look. "Don't do anything stupid, Marian." And walks away to try and make amends for her actions those weeks ago.

Marian drifts on the edge of the party, never standing to close to anyone. She draws attention in her white dress, but no one asks her to dance. She is a marked woman.

She begins counting her steps to amuse herself. Fifteen, sixteen –

"My lady?" asks a quiet voice to her side, and Marian jumps. Looking up, she sees a grinning Robin under one of the ridiculous hats all the hired help is wearing. She freezes, unsure of what to do, but Robin takes her hand and tugs her into a dark hallway.

"You really shouldn't be here," she whispers, looking around nervously. He grins his self-confident grin and she feels her heart thud a little.

"Not to worry, love. Everything's fine. We're just keeping tabs."

"On who?" she asks as he leans on the wall, crossing his arms. She straightens her dress on her shoulders, suddenly conscious of how thin the airy material is. It's cold in the dark stone hallway.

"You, Gisbourne, the Sheriff. All the usual suspects." His smile drops a little. "You don't seem to be having the best time, Marian. Is everything alright?"

"I'm fine," she replies automatically. She doesn't know why, after he rescued her and they – but she does. She shuts him out.

"You're not," Robin says, pushing himself off the wall. She stands very still as he comes closer, as he reaches out and touches her shoulder. Gently, as if afraid she will bolt like a skittish horse. "You're on edge. Did something happen?"

"No. Nothing. Now if you'll excuse me, I have to get back before someone notices." Her snappy, no-nonsense spirit returns as she turns him down, and suddenly they are caught in the same trap they have been in since his return. How did that happen? She takes a deep breath before plunging back into the banquet.

Gisbourne is waiting for her.

"Might I have this dance?" he asks, and she balks, surprised.

"Yes?" She doesn't mean for it to be a question but it comes out as one. He nods quickly and pulls her out onto the dance floor. They weave together and apart in a group dance, his black never quite meeting her white.

After a time, he spins her away from the group and into another hallway. She looks up, confused, but his grip is iron on her waist and arm.

"Guy?" Her voice takes on a slightly panicked note. "Guy, what – "

"Be quiet," he orders and she acquiesces out of shock. Releasing her, he pushes her farther into the hallway. She stumbles a little. "Marian, what are you doing here?"

"I'm…I was invited," she replies, still confused. His face is dark and a little terrifying. The light in his eyes is unnatural, and it makes dread twist her stomach.

"You came here to spite me, didn't you." It isn't a question. "To flaunt what you could get away with." Marian looks at him and sees everything he has been holding inside him all evening. His eyes bore into hers, half mad with anger, half pleading. She breathes shakily.

"No, of course not, Guy – "

"You can't come here any more." He suddenly straightens and pulls away, reining himself in. "You can't be in the castle." As he starts to walk away, Marian panics.

"Guy, wait – " She grabs his arm, feeling the intense urge to make him believe her. Believe _in_ her.

He whirls back around, and this time the shadows cast on his face unmistakably tell her she has made an error.

"_Don't touch me_," he hisses, and his hand connects with her face.

Marian flinches away after the blow, mouth open in shock. In truth it didn't hurt much – she has had much worse – but she thought she had known Guy better than that.

They remain where they are, frozen in the half-darkness. Their expressions are mirrors of disbelief. Then Guy hardens, falling behind the half-sneer he carries with him.

He leaves Marian in the same half-darkness that suddenly seems a lot colder than before.

--

She lies beneath the stars, a frown on her face. Her cheek is throbbing and red, but the cool grass feels good on its hot surface. As impractical as lying in the grass in a white dress is, she can't remember the last time she felt something so good.

He finds her there, a pale sliver in the dark green. His steps are slow and silent, and she doesn't hear him till he is too close for her to turn away.

Stopping a few feet from her, he watches her watching the sky. She doesn't look at him, but at this point can't hide her cheek.

"What happened?" He asks, surprisingly calm. This makes her look.

He is standing with his hands in his pockets, hair flopping over his forehead. Eyebrows raised, he looks a strange mix of boy and man at that moment. She looks back at the stars.

"Nothing. I left the party early."

"Because of Gisbourne." It isn't a question.

For a moment Marian doesn't answer. "Yes," she finally says.

The silence that falls between them is filled with the sounds of the night, little frogs and crickets and birds settling down. Marian closes her eyes, listening, and tries not to worry about why he isn't angrier.

"I know."

She raises her head. "What?"

"I know," he repeats, and looks up too. Now she notices the hard clench of his jaw. "I can also see your face, and I can take a guess as to where that mark came from."

She stands, not bothering to brush her dress off. "I could have fallen, Robin. Or had a silly accident in the kitchen. How do you know it was Guy?"

For a moment his face doesn't look so dark, so hard. He almost smiles. "Well, if you weren't incredibly graceful and allergic to being in the kitchen, I might buy that." Then he falls silent and crosses his arms. "But I saw you. With him. In the hallway." His eyes are go dark again.

Marian opens her mouth but nothing comes out. For a moment the urge to break is overwhelming. She feels like leaning her head forward onto his chest and letting out the huge, growing sob inside her. But to be weak in front of Robin is something she will never do.

So she stiffens. "And what business is it of yours? I can protect myself."

He laughs in disbelief. "Well, apparently not, but we'll get to that in a second." She scoffs and tries to look away but the intensity of his eyes holds her. "Marian, we rode _away_ from this man _together_. Why are you just going back to how it was?"

She honestly couldn't answer him. In truth, she feels a little like she is drowning. But, then again, she always had been one to try to swim upstream.

"It's fine, Robin. You don't need to be part of my affairs. I can handle myself." She turns and starts to walk away. He catches her arm, his hands rough and warm on her cold skin.

"Marian, why won't you just let me protect you?" His voice is rough, and Marian feels herself going warm at the sincerity in his words. "You asked me once to help you. What happened to that?" A pause. "Let me look after you."

Again she feels like crumbling, a wall on the verge of collapse. But she stiffens her spine and turns to him.

"You don't need to. I'm strong enough."

Suddenly he is kissing her. She isn't quite sure how it happened. One moment he is looking at her with confusion in his eyes, the next he has taken her face in his hands and is crushing his lips to hers. Hard and demanding, Marian nearly jumps back in surprise. But his arms keep her close, one running down her arm to wrap around her waist.

And it feels good. It feels stable and grounding and exciting like nothing else. She feels herself hesitate and then kiss him back, her body moving into his, his warmth wrapping around her. The hand on her face slides back into her long hair, and she holds him tight around the waist.

When he pulls back, Marian looks up at him, feeling suddenly naked under his green gaze. How does he look at her like that? Like she is the only thing in the world? She knows she isn't, his past actions certainly proved that. But he strokes her hurt cheek with such gentleness and says her name with such reverence that she finds herself bending.

She buries her face in his neck, tightening her grip on him. She doesn't cry, but for now letting herself lean on him a little is enough. He strokes her back and her hair, whispering things in her hair she can't quite hear.

Everything was not all right. Everything was not all right and it would not be all right for a long time. But he gave her the hope that someday it might be.

A/N: Written for the Robin/Marian ficathon over on LJ, a href" community./saythewordsthen/profile"Say The Words Then/a


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